2 posts tagged “grandma”
What is the best present you have ever given?
Submitted by quornflour.
For my fantastic grandmother's 92 birthday last year, I wrote to the Detroit Tigers and asked if I could send them a card for a few of her favorite players to sign. After all, she and my grandfather were lifelong fans and even moved to Lakeland, Florida, upon retirement because that's where the Tigers had Spring Training.
Instead, they sent her a certificate on behalf of the Tigers organization commemerating her birthday and thanking her for her dedication and loyalty to the team.
I didn't tell her what was going on - the Tigers were in the middle of the World Series run and were a bit busy at the time of her birthday. She got it a few weeks after the fact and was so excited, she showed it to everyone at 'The Home' (that's what she calls her apartment place, not me. Ha, funny Grandma!).
The first runner-up best gift evar were socks for my dad. He's always complaining about having cold feet when he's out doing farm stuff in the winter. Well, if you are wearing rubber boots and not proper winter boots, what do you expect? You expect to complain a lot.
Anyhoo, I bought him some high-tech socks last year and he thought those were the greatest things created in the history of mankind.
So this year he's getting two pair.
I want to bake a decent loaf of bread before I die.
You wouldn't think this goal ranks as being worthy enough to be included on my list with skiing in Portillo, white water rafting through the Himalayas or going on a date with a non-psychotic guy. Alas, the goal is just as challenging, daunting and in the case of the later example, harder than it would appear to be.
This is especially embarrassing to me because I come from a line of professional Home Economists.
But let's start at the beginning. The weather is starting to cool in Phoenix (yay, high of 90!) and the residents start shaking off the heat-induced stupor from the last few months. The brain kicks back in gear and people like me get inspired to use kitchen appliances previously banned from use due to temperature raising properties.
The sermon this morning at church had something to do with sharing the bounty. I don't remember exactly what was said, because when our minister started talking about the story of the bread baking woman, my imagination drifted off and I pictured myself baking all afternoon, pulling light, fluffy airy loaves from the oven.
After my short walk back home, I called my mother. Now, the only thing my mother cannot make well is a cake from scratch. I remember one birthday confection attempt that has gone down in family lore as the "Sahara Desert Cake". Ever since then, she's been dedicated to the box mix ("Why put that much work into something that you can get from a box and it always comes out right?").
Also, my mother has a bachelor's degree in Home Economics, Michigan State class of 1964. So she knows her way around the kitchen - and her name really is Susan.
I told her I wanted to try once again to bake bread. I read the recipe to her over the phone and we did a check on my ingredient list. She wished me luck and then I went to work.
I followed the recipe in my Better Homes & Garden cookbook to the letter. Obsessively reading and rereading the instructions, timing out every step. If I was supposed to knead between 6 and 8 minutes, by golly I would knead it for 7. I thought all was going well and then - my dough wasn't rising. It was rising more than it had in past attempts, but still not terribly impressive.
I punched it as instructed and then separated it into two halves for the bread pan. I waited. Nothing. Time to call in reinforcements. Grandma.
My 93-year old grandmother can bake bread without looking at instructions. She also is an MSU alumna, BA in Home Ec, 1935. Rock on, Grams.
"Hi Gramma, it's Amy."
"Oh, hi. I heard you are doing some baking."
Sunday is Phone Call Day. It started for me when I went to college, just as with my mom when she went to college. I may not talk to Grandma every Sunday, but I definitely talk to Mom and she always talks to hers.
"I'm not sure you can call it baking, Grams. It's looking pretty pathetic so far."
She laughed and I gave her the play by play retelling. She said I did everything right and when I told her I'm not cut out to make bread, she reminded me that a couple of Christmases ago she helped me and it turned out well. That's because she was there, I pointed out.
I had asked her to show me how to bake bread because it was a memory I wanted to have with my last living grandparent. I can't remember a damn thing about what we did to make the bread come out perfect. I only remember laughing and spending time together, getting Grams to tell stories of her youth. She's pretty sharp for her age, but she's becoming more fragile. You're allowed to be fragile at 93.
Because she's a Grandma, she could tell I was pretty down about my latest brick production. If I had saved all the results of my bread baking experiences over the years, I could have a built sturdy small house by now.
"Well, you know what's harder than making bread? Pies. I think pies are really hard."
"Aw, Gramma, you're just saying that to make me feel better."
I love baking pies. I'm a pie snob of the worst order. Blueberry and apple pies are my faves and to get ones I like, I have to make them myself. Those are the only things I'm fussy about when it comes to food. My mom raised that bar high and it's something I had to perfect before I left home. If someone out there can make pies as good as the H family recipe, then I'd love to meet those pies. Yum.
Today's baking was a complete bust, but it was nice connecting with the matriarchal line. Food always brings people together, even if it's only through the telephone and across the country.
Here is the fruitless result of my day of baking. If you know of any other uses for this than masonry, let me know!
